


infinity

by rire



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, merry christmas!!!!, there's some fluff though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To him, the journey is more about discovering Akashi than it is about discovering the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	infinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shairiru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shairiru/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Shy! 
> 
> First of all I would just like to say I'm sorry ;u; I know you're looking at that major character death warning and shaking your fist but I swear there is fluff in here too!! And in my defense, you did say that angst and charadeath are welcome in your prompt... Well anyways, I hope you like the fic (I know you're a secret sucker for angst don't try to hide it)!
> 
> Oh, and this is an AU where the reconciliation of Extra Game never happened.

It is exactly two a.m. when Akashi shows up at Midorima’s doorstep.

It has been exactly five years since the two of them have last seen each other. The first thing Midorima notices is that Akashi’s hair has grown out. It looks exactly like it did back in middle school. Nostalgia tickles at Midorima’s heart and the faint hint of something he thought was long gone flutters in his stomach.

The second thing he notices is that Akashi is shivering, even though he is wearing a thick jacket and scarf. It is the middle of winter, and his breaths come out as little puffs, wisps that evaporate in the small space between them.

It is an understatement to say that Midorima is surprised. Then again, Akashi has always surprised him. Midorima has envisioned their reunion a few times more than he’d like to admit, and he has a million things he wants to say to Akashi, the first of which being—

“Why are you here?”

That is not the only thing Midorima wants to say, and they both know it.

Akashi smiles, a calm, practiced, secretive smile. “The stars are beautiful tonight, and I wanted to share them with you.”

That is not the only reason Akashi has come, and they both know it.

Midorima casts him a glare. The faint remnants of anger rush through him, at the fact that even now Akashi thinks it is acceptable to show up in Midorima’s life whenever he deems fit. But he can’t bring himself to be as angry as he wants to be, not when Akashi’s hair glows in the moonlight and his skin looks pale and soft and it’s the first time he has seen Akashi smile since too long ago. He puts on a coat and shoes and heads out the door, locking it behind them.

The cold air stings Midorima’s skin like salt on an old wound. He tries to avoid looking at Akashi, and fails. Close up, Akashi looks tired, like he’s held the weight of a century on his small shoulders. Midorima looks away.

They reach an old park bench. Akashi sits, and so does Midorima, because the empty space next to Akashi has always been dangerously inviting.

Akashi turns to him. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Midorima replies curtly, “but this isn’t about me.”

Akashi smiles tightly. “It is, and it isn’t.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Silence.

“Akashi.” _Tell me,_ Midorima screams in his head. _Tell me why you’re here. Where you’ve been. Why you look like a star ready to collapse into itself—_

“I’m dying.”

 _Dying._ Two syllables. _Dy-ing._

The world doesn’t stop. The world takes no notice of the way that two words shake the very foundation of Midorima’s beliefs. Of the way that Midorima, and not Akashi, crumbles.

His mouth forms words, but no sound escapes. He stares at Akashi, who has the same deadly calm expression on his face as if he had just stated that it was cold outside.

“Why?” Midorima blurts out. Had he been plagued with an illness? Or perhaps it was the plague of living such a lifestyle as he did? Most importantly, why him? Why Akashi Seijuurou, at the young age of twenty-three, having, fortunately or unfortunately, just inherited the family business with a long and well-worn path ahead of him?

“I’m sick,” Akashi says. “The doctors say I have one month left. I thought you deserved to know.”

“Why?”

The wind whispers something to Midorima, something he chooses not to hear.

Akashi leans back against the bench. “We were friends.”

“ _Were?_ Is that what you think of me?”

Akashi gives Midorima a long, hard look. Midorima thinks he sees gratitude in those eyes. “Are,” he says, and smiles, the kind of smile that’s soft and reaches his eyes and reminds Midorima of fireplaces and hot cocoa.

Midorima smiles back. Things could very well have been back to normal if it were not for the suffocating weight of the truth threatening to crush Midorima with its cold fingers.

“I have a request,” Akashi says. “A dying request.”

The word itself, so hollow, makes Midorima cringe. “What is it?”

“I’ve never travelled outside of Japan. I would like to see the world. But seeing the world is a rather daunting and lonely process, so I think I would very much prefer a companion.”

Akashi has chosen the right time, of course. Midorima had just graduated from medical school and had one month’s vacation until he was to begin looking for work. Medical school. Midorima laughed inwardly. What use? A small, subtle mockery of his inability to save his dying friend.

But what answer could Midorima give, really? He was always one to do his best at what he could, no matter how small the prospects.

Midorima sighs and nods. “Of course,” he says. “And you wake me up at two in the morning to ask this because?”

Akashi’s smile is secretive this time. “Sagittarius ranks first today, and I simply could not wait.”

“That’s rather selfish of you,” Midorima says, but he is smiling, God knows why.

 

\---

 

They embark on their strange quest the next day. The same day, technically. Midorima catches roughly three hours of sleep and is clinging to the edge of consciousness when Akashi shows up at his door once again, suitcase all packed and ready to go.

Unsurprisingly, Akashi has managed to snag last minute first class plane tickets due to “connections” of his. Surprisingly, Akashi has never flown before, and though his innocent confusion at complicated airport procedures is well disguised behind a charming smile, his fear of flight is not so well hidden. He looks excited enough to be on the plane, but a look of pale horror dawns on him as he browses through the safety procedures booklet, and he begins to murmur unintelligibly under his breath with his eyes squeezed shut and a steel-tight grip on Midorima’s hand.

Midorima manages to quell the fluttering in his chest in the name of more urgent matters, like the fact that his hand may actually break. “Akashi,” he says, rubbing the back of Akashi’s hand gently, and Akashi’s eyes burst open. “It’ll be okay.”

“I’m not scared,” Akashi says indignantly, but his grip on Midorima loosens just a little.

The plane takes off and Midorima’s heart speeds up. “Would you like to look out the window? The view is quite incredible.”

Akashi ponders this for a moment and then turns his head slightly. Midorima sees Akashi’s look of pure awe reflected back in the window and feels something warm spread through his chest.

“It’s beautiful,” Akashi says.

“It is,” Midorima says softly, but he gets the feeling they are talking about two completely different things.

The rest of the flight is rather uneventful, but in the best way. They simply talk, catch up on everything they missed over the years, but the conversation flows easily as if there’d never been a gap in the first place. Akashi wrinkles his nose a little at the quality of the food and frowns when Midorima calls him spoiled. Near the end of the flight Akashi dozes off on Midorima’s shoulder, hair tickling his neck, but Midorima dares not move, only listens to the _thud-thud-thud_ of his heart echoing in his own ears, impossibly loud amidst the constant humming of the plane. He hopes it does not wake Akashi.

They land at their first stop—London International Airport—and check out, and there’s a bounce to Akashi’s step that has never been there before. They board a limousine and arrive at possibly the fanciest hotel Midorima has ever seen.

This time Akashi’s in charge of checking in, fluent English flowing from his tongue while Midorima stands awkwardly at his side, only able to decipher half of the conversation; despite having studied English rigorously in high school, it’s not quite the same in the real world.

The elevator is huge. There’d be room to dance in it, Midorima thinks. The four walls are surrounded by mirrors, and there are endless Midorimas and Akashis looking back at them from all different angles. Midorima catches the eye of one rather fragmented Akashi and smiles at him. The Akashi smiles back. Midorima thinks about a book he read before a long time ago (it had been a recommendation by Akashi, in fact, it was _that_ long ago) about a theory of diverging universes, of the fact that at any given time there were infinite Midorimas and Akashis wandering in infinite spaces, and they were all different as a result of different choices. He wonders if in one of them, Akashi may live on past the age of twenty-three. He wonders if they would have become friends again, or if he simply grew lucky in this universe. Would their paths always converge? Was there any chance that they may stay together in one of the universes and live to old age? As friends, or perhaps something—

_Ding._

“Midorima,” Akashi says, nudging his side with an elbow. “We’re here.”

Midorima shakes his head to clear the thoughts, and they walk out, leaving the others behind. He’ll have to cherish this Akashi while he lasts.

They reach the room. It’s nearly the size of Midorima’s house. “Are you sure this is okay?” Midorima asks. Akashi had paid for everything, after all.

“Of course. It’s the least I can do to thank you for coming along with me.” Akashi shrugs off his jacket and flops onto one of the two king-sized beds. He lets out a contented sigh and presses his face into the pillow. Midorima follows suit, lying on his back on the other bed. He feels himself sinking into sleep already.

They end up sleeping for twelve hours and nearly screw up their entire itinerary that Akashi had planned—thankfully, they’re used to getting ready quickly due to having nearly slept through basketball games in the past and hop on the tour bus just in time. The streets are beautiful, a lacework of antique-looking buildings dotted with bustling people and traffic and backed with a clear blue sky. They tick off the main tourist attractions from their list with exhilarated smiles. At least, Akashi does. A creeping sense of _something_ seems to pervade with Midorima as he watches the Big Ben towering above them, the ticking of the clock melancholy rather than exciting when he looks over at Akashi and wonders just how much time he has left.

Midorima is ashamed to admit that the trip whizzes by much faster than he’d like to admit. He doesn't remember everything that happens in every destination. They fly to different places every night and barely catch a wink of sleep. Along the journey he keeps an eye on Akashi at all times, telling himself it’s out of concern for his health, when in reality, the journey to him is more about discovering Akashi than it is about discovering the world.

He commits to memory the look of relaxation on Akashi’s face as he looks out at the green expanses of the Swedish countryside, entertains Akashi as he tells about how nice it would be to have a house there and ignores the dolorous tone of Akashi’s voice. As they snorkel in the Cancun underwater museum, he observes how soft Akashi’s hair looks, fanning out in the water, how gracefully he moves, as if at one with the water. He could have pursued a career as a swimmer—he could have been _anything,_ he could have _._ As they paddle across the serene Lake Louise, Midorima smiles as Akashi dips his hands in the water, creating soft, symmetrical ripples across the mirror-like surface of the lake, and thinks how amazing it is that one small person can have such a rippling effect on something so big. He tries and fails to prevent Akashi from trying four different kinds of wine in Paris, and they eat and drink and laugh until their stomachs are about to burst and stumble back to the hotel.

It’s that night that Midorima remembers in a vivid haze. At the hotel, Akashi falls next to him on the bed, cheeks nearly as red as his hair. They’ve slept apart for the past two weeks, and Midorima’s heart stutters at the sudden proximity. He gets up to move to the other bed, but Akashi catches him by the sleeve and looks at him in a way Midorima has never seen before, and before he can react, Akashi pulls him close and kisses him just like that—just like that, everything Midorima has been carrying as a burden inside him for years and _years_ dissipates into this, the warmth of his lips and the heat of his skin and—

Midorima pulls away. “You’re drunk,” he says feebly.

“I’m not,” Akashi says. “And so what if I am? I would do the same sober. I’ve wanted to for _years_ —” He trails off and pulls Midorima close again, curling delicate fingers into his hair and Midorima bites back a moan and shakes his head.

“You’re drunk,” he tries again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” It hurts to say this. It hurts to think that Akashi is simply saying this because of alcohol, because of proximity, because he is lonely and sad and Midorima is here.

But it hurts even more to think that it might be the truth.

_Years._

“I love you,” Akashi says, simple as that, and the words pierce him like a bullet in the chest.

“Why?” Midorima chokes out, unable to hide the pain in his voice. “Why tell me now?”

Akashi strokes the side of Midorima’s face, painfully gentle. “There are some secrets I will take to my grave. But I don’t want loving you to be one of them.”

Midorima has two choices, he knows. He can go with this. He can have what he has always wanted, even if only for a short while, get a brief taste of paradise and then condemn himself to a lifetime of hell. Or he can stop now, stop before the point of no return—but he had passed that point the minute he fell for Akashi.

“I love you too,” he says. The words, once out of his mouth, sound almost inconsequential, a futile shout into the void. _Hey, I know you’ll be gone in two weeks’ time, but guess what? I love you._

Akashi kisses him again, kisses him hard and hungry and runs his hands through his hair, up and down his chest, everything. Midorima kisses back, closes his eyes and convinces himself that this moment is all.

It’s when their clothes are off that something finally clicks in Akashi’s mind. Midorima has just shrugged out of his shirt when he looks down and sees that Akashi has covered his face in his hands, and a tear is sliding, in a slow, sad path, down his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I take it back. Just—pretend I didn’t say anything.”

He doesn’t know if he feels frustration or compassion. “Akashi—”

“I can’t do this. I can’t put you through this.”

Midorima looks away, knowing exactly what Akashi means. “Seijuurou,” he says slowly, meaningfully. “I want this. It would be worse of you to deny me this. I understand completely if you’re not comfortable, but if the sole purpose of this is because you think it will break my heart, consider that it was meant to be broken anyways.”

Akashi’s shoulders shake a little. “Don’t say that.”

“It was,” Midorima says simply, pushing his hands aside gently. The corners of Akashi’s eyes are a little red. They fall into each other, and Akashi’s lips are a little wet, but eager. Akashi curls a hand in Midorima’s hair and trails kisses down his neck and whispers, “You’ll be the death of me,” and the two of them laugh, just a little, too observant not to see the irony in that.

 

\---

 

Not long after, Akashi’s health worsens significantly; their trip is cut short, and on their last evening, they sit on Venice Beach and watch the sunset. Midorima has an arm around Akashi, who is trying desperately not to let Midorima figure out that he is in pain. To distract him, Midorima tells him the first thing on his mind—his thoughts on that first day in the elevator, about the theory of infinite Midorimas and Akashis, living together or apart, alive or dead.

“I’m surprised you still remember that book,” Akashi laughs. Midorima blushes a little. He’d read through every one of Akashi’s recommendations at least twice, but Akashi doesn’t have to know that.

“I guess one of me will always be alive, then,” Akashi says with a wry smile. “That’s good to know. And one pair of us will always be together. One of me will always make one of you happy.”

“This you makes me happy enough,” Midorima says. He takes Akashi’s hand and squeezes. Akashi squeezes back. As the sun sets and bathes Akashi’s complexion in pale, soft, warm orange, Midorima falls in love with Akashi for the last time.

 

\--- 

 

When Akashi checks into the hospital, he turns to Midorima, a steely look of determination in his eyes.

“Can I ask you one last thing?”

Midorima nods.

“Don’t visit me any more,” Akashi says. “And most of all don’t visit my grave. I want your last memory of me to be at that sunset—happy, and warm, and alive, not a cold, dead, faceless stone.”

Midorima takes a deep breath and thinks of a reply. _From the moment you showed up at my door, you should have been prepared to face the consequences. To walk back into my life is to accept that you love me, and that I love you, no matter what. Even without infinite universes, I have seen all the yous that exist in this one. I have loved the you that I first met, small and smartly dressed with round little cheeks. I have loved the you that glides across the court like a chessboard with the commanding presence of a king. I have loved the you I saw so recently, drunk on wine and adrenaline, throwing your head back and laughing without hesitation. And I have loved the you that looks so youthful bathed in the sun and in the warmth of something we share, something we have shared all along and will not cease to share just because you are gone from this earth. I will love the you that is feeble and weak, blue veins popping out through translucent skin, and I will love you as you are crumbling into the earth. I will love you once your body has long decayed and I will love you to the edges of forever._

How could he say this?

He couldn’t.

Instead, he takes Akashi’s hand and squeezes it. “I can’t promise you that. I am going to visit you, alive or dead, but even so, I can promise you that I will not forget this.”

“You’re a stubborn one,” Akashi says and smiles. Midorima commits it to memory, for these private flashes of bliss in his mind’s eye will be what keeps him alive for the years to come when he has a limited reel of memories to watch and a lifetime of universes to ponder. And though he will be happy to know that Akashi is alive and well somewhere else, he will always remember that in this universe, this Akashi was more than enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> “There are some secrets I will take to my grave. But I don’t want loving you to be one of them” - this quote is from the webcomic "a softer world." (I'm 99% sure Shy tweeted this at some point and that's how i found it, lol)


End file.
